


Insecure

by justdk



Series: Rovinsky Week 2018 [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, NSFW, Nightmares, Rovinsky Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 06:40:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14303046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdk/pseuds/justdk
Summary: Kavinsky helps Ronan work through some issues





	Insecure

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Rovinsky Week 2018, Day 1: Nightmares

“Really?!” Ronan slammed the door against the wall startling the two people in his bed. It was the middle of the day so he could see, too clearly, who was desecrating his mattress, but he didn’t want to believe it. _Couldn’t believe it_. “What the fuck, man?”

Kavinsky crawled off the prone body and lazily hitched his pants up over his hips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled that trademark filthy grin, unrepentant to the core. He still looked fucking hot, despite everything, and that made Ronan’s fury burn even hotter.

“Problem?” Kavinsky drawled. He dug in the pockets of his track pants until he found his pack of smokes and lit up. The guy on the bed mumbled something and Kavinsky reached around to tousle his hair, his eyes still fixed on Ronan.

“I didn’t think I had to tell you that my brothers were off limits,” Ronan said through gritted teeth. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in the back of his throat, behind his eyeballs. The anger and betrayal was suffocating.

“What can I say?” Kavinsky asked. He sat back on the bed, fingers trailing over Declan’s ribs down to his thighs. “You’re good but D, he’s _way better_. And he’ll wear a tie for me.” He tugged at the black tie that secured Declan’s wrists and Declan groaned.

Ronan had to look away. He couldn’t bear to see his brother looking like that, fucked out and covered with Kavinsky’s bite marks and bruises. His hands were shaking so hard that he had to grab onto the doorframe, squeezing until his fingers ached.

“I hate you,” Ronan said, voice hoarse and laced with bitterness.

“Don’t be like that, babe,” Kavinsky purred. “Come on, we can be one big happy family.” He took a drag and blew smoke towards Declan, making him cough.

“You ruin everything!” Ronan yelled. He punched the wall, breaking through the dry wall, tearing the skin over his knuckles. The pain was bright and searing.

Kavinsky’s laugh filled the room as Ronan crouched down, bending over his bleeding fist. There was something off about that laugh, about all of this. Ronan reached for that feeling of _wrongness_ and tugged. The room _exploded_ , the walls crashing down as the night horrors burst in. Ronan barely had time to cover his face before they attacked, a storm of beaks and claws.

—–

“Ronan! Fuck, man, wake up!” Kavinsky straddled Ronan’s body, his hands grasping too tightly as he shook Ronan’s shoulders.

Ronan made another pained sound; his face contorted as he fought off whatever was tormenting him.

“Shit!” Kavinsky climbed over his rumpled bed and dug through the bottles scattered on his nightstand until he found the one filled with electric green pills. He shook one out and frantically pulverized it, using an empty beer bottle as a makeshift pestle. Once the pill was reduced to a powder he scrambled back across the mattress to where Ronan was paralyzed by his nightmare. He pried Ronan’s mouth open and scattered the dust on his tongue, hoping that would be enough.

Ronan choked, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Kavinsky leaned over him, fingers tangled in the sheets, hoping, hoping, hoping. It had been weeks since Ronan’s last nightmare and Kavinsky had stupidly thought that maybe the regime of dream drugs had finally begun to work, suppressing Ronan’s horrors.

When Ronan’s eyes finally opened they were bloodshot. Kavinsky gasped in relief and cupped Ronan’s face in his trembling hands.

“Welcome back you stupid fuck,” Kavinsky grinned. “You are so lucky I don’t sleep.”

Ronan huffed out a breath. He had a relieved look in his eyes that made Kavinsky’s chest feel tight. Something wet touched Kavinsky’s knee and when he looked down he noticed the fresh cuts on Ronan’s forearms and the busted knuckles of his right hand.

“Jesus H. Christ, Lynch,” Kavinsky complained. “You gotta stop boxing your night horrors. Self-love, babe, remember?” He hopped off the bed and scrounged for the kit of supplies he had started collecting ever since Ronan had taken to spending the night here.

It took a while to get Ronan cleaned up and bandaged. By the time he was finished Ronan was able to move again and talk but he hadn’t said anything yet. Instead his tired eyes stayed focused on Kavinsky’s hands while he worked. That was a sign that things had gotten _personal_ in the nightmare; if it was simply a brutal attack by the night horrors Ronan would have told him about it.

“Drink?” Kavinsky asked and Ronan nodded. He found a bottle of vodka on the dresser, the liquid discolored from the Skittles that Proko had poured into it for some reason. He took a drink before passing it to Ronan. “Drink the rainbow, bitch.”

Ronan snorted and took the bottle, their fingers brushing. He tilted the bottle back and chugged several mouthfuls, his throat working as he swallowed.

“Damn, save some for me,” Kavinsky said before taking back the half-emptied bottle.

Ronan flopped onto the bed, his face flushed from the alcohol. He closed his eyes and Kavinsky was worried that he would fall asleep again and that would be bad, mixing anti-nightmare pills with a stomach full of alcohol.

“Talk to me, Lynch,” Kavinsky prodded. “Doctor K is in.”

“Ugh,” Ronan groaned. “You don’t wanna know.”

Kavinsky lay down next to him, propping himself up so he could stare at Ronan’s face.

“I do wanna know. Lay it on me. The bad, the awful, and the worst.”

“Well,” Ronan said with a heavy sigh, “you were fucking Declan.”

Kavinsky blinked. He wasn’t expecting _that_ , he hadn’t thought that Ronan had those kinds of insecurities buried in his thick skull.

“In my bed,” Ronan added. “When I got mad you had the audacity to invite me to join in.” He looked over at Kavinsky, his gaze somewhere between judging and anxious.

For once Kavinsky thought before he spoke. He wasn’t the king of tact but it was telling that Ronan had had this nightmare so he knew better than to treat it as a joke.

“All right, Ronan,” Kavinsky said. “I’ll be honest with you because I know you’re all about the honesty.” Ronan narrowed his eyes. “I would be lying if I said I had never had an impure thought about Declan.” Ronan opened his mouth to protest but Kavinsky stopped him with a shushing noise. “Not done yet! However, since you and I have been doing whatever it is we’re doing… I haven’t _purposefully_ thought about it. Besides, you’re the one I’ve always wanted.”

“K—” Ronan pushed himself up on his shaking, bandaged arms. “Are you… are you fucking with me?”

Kavinsky had to admire the flush on Ronan’s cheeks and the sharp glint in his deep blue eyes.

“I’m serious as a fucking heart attack.” Ronan’s breath caught and Kavinsky grinned. He could get used to this. He leaned in until they were so close the tips of their noses almost touched. “Ronan,” he said, quiet and intense, the way Ronan liked to hear his own name.

He was not surprised when Ronan surged forward and kissed him, or when Ronan pushed he down onto the bed. No surprise that the kisses were rough or that Ronan pinned his hands over his head, holding him down, keeping him in place.

“Brothers are off limits,” Ronan grumbled against the side of his neck and Kavinsky laughed.

“No shit.” Kavinsky tilted his head back so Ronan could have better access to his throat.

“I’m serious, K.” Ronan stared down at him, his face scrunched up in a frown.

After months of chasing Ronan around Henrietta Kavinsky finally had him. He wasn’t going to fuck this up.

“Ronan.” Ronan’s eyes fluttered closed and he shivered. Kavinsky made himself relax beneath him, yielding in a way he had never done for anyone else. Surrender, when it was with Ronan, didn’t feel like defeat.

“Ronan.” He said again. “Make me yours.”

—–

Afterwards they were both too tired for nightmares, or dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @dkafterdark


End file.
